thefifthcityfandomcom-20200213-history
Sorrow-spiders
"These little charmers sneak into the bedrooms of sleepers and bite their eyes off. They take them back to their nests and do...what? No-one's actually seen them eating the stolen eyes." That old saying that spiders drink your tears while you sleep? Sorrow-spiders rip out the whole eye. Sweet dreams!__forcetoc__ Burn the Whole City Down "Sorrow-spiders. Disgusting or lovable? Objects of worship, entertainment, or mere silk-producing machines? Opinion is divided." Sorrow-spiders are terrifying arachnids that grow to about the size of a cat. They infest quite a few corners of London, to the point that the Department of Menace Eradication often pays handsomely for sacks filled with their legs. Rooms full of sorrow-spiders are sometimes used for executions, especially for unfortunate players of the Great Game. The landlord of the Blind Helmsman runs a spider-pit, where Londoners place their bets as spiders fight to the death, and sorrow-spider silk is surprisingly popular as a fabric. Furthermore, the Observatory near Watchmaker's Hill is home to a blind cult of astronomers, who seem to worship the spiders as some sort of idol. It turns out that sorrow-spiders can actually be tamed; apparently they can be quite intelligent and prone to ambition. Now, what is their ambition? Spider-Councils "Sorrow-spiders are already repulsive. Spider-councils are what happens when sorrow-spiders go bad." Every now and a bunch of sorrow-spiders come together and combine to form a hulking spider-council. These monsters can grow even larger than a horse, and they often fester in the crypts of abandoned buildings. Sorrow-spiders actually bring these monsters stolen eyes, in which they lay their eggs. In particular, Spider-councils seem to value the eyes of those "blessed" with the Correspondence. Also, they can talk. A smooth, silky contralto, as one would expect. Saviour's Rocks "The sound of their constant motion is like pebbles on a beach..." Saviour's Rocks '''is the largest grouping of sorrow-spiders in the Neath. The few humans living in '''the Nativity, the only human settlement here, refuse to speak of spiders, only referring to them as their "generous neighbors of whom they will speak no ill." The sorrow-spiders here see and hear everything, and those who transgress are soundly punished. On occasion, people may venture into the pitch-dark Scuttering Reaches to gather silk in preparation for the festivities. The inhabitants of the Rocks are divided into two groups based on gender, Weavers (women) and Widows (men), both of whom avidly worship the sorrow-spiders. Luckily for visitors, the spiders have instituted what they call the Accord of Grace, which usually lets visitors commune with the humans here unscathed. Usually. Silk traders are common here, but they're notoriously tight-lipped and artificial, arguably even robotic. The main human contact in this wretched place is the rather passive-aggressive Emissary of Spiders, who, of course, lacks eyes. Despite his lack of sight, he's well-informed and is willing to conduct business with zee-captains. He acts as the "mouth" of the spider-council here, and he also occasionally acts a tour-guide for visitors. The Festival of Silk is the much-awaited annual event where the inhabitants of the Rocks can finally let loose and have a good time until they go back to their colorless lives. Near the Rocks lies the wreck of the ''Nocturne, a ship that was webbed up and emptied by the spiders. Webbed Secrets "You've heard somewhere that sorrow-spiders can travel between mirrors. Did you read it in some weighty book on cryptoarachnology, or was it the rant of a beggar in the Flit? Why does the phrase 'tree of ages' come to mind?" ''"Branches of webs hang in their thousands from the colossal statue of some being as far from an angel as an angel from a man. The spider-council has made its home in the chipped out eyes, surrounded by its lessers and a precious collection of ensnared unfortunates. Hundreds of these captives dangle in silk cocoons, the sane and still-living tended to just enough to serve their full measure of both use and suffering." Sorrow-spiders have the mysterious ability to travel between mirrors, which can be useful for infiltrations and assassinations. The spiders of Saviour's Rocks formed an alliance with an avaricious Lorn-Fluke. The Fluke would blind a zee-beast that knows the Correspondence, and the spiders would give it troves of secrets in return. "They speak ... century of stolen secrets, ... almost as long regretted promise made to a great zee-beast. ... greed for knowledge, for which it willingly blinded another creature with the light of the stars. ... secrets, eagerly grasped, reluctantly relinquished. ... the curse of curiosity. ... they speak of a trap, yet to be baited." The Fathomking seems to have a strong enmity with the sorrow-spiders, and Drownies who dare trade with them are promptly executed in his court. Saviour's Rocks is guarded by the Tree of Ages, a living ship of huge spider-councils, made from a complex series of deals the spiders struck and betrayed. Eventually, they seek to become the Tree of Epochs, which will "stretch through the Neath to become the perfect geometry of sorrow". Another spider-council on the Rocks is the Tree of Seasons, which is smaller but arguably even worse. The Tree of Seasons resides within the Web of Stone, which is also home to various eyeless cultists. It has trapped several unfortunate beings within cocoons to extract their secrets, and their only refuge is death itself. A Web Hung Between the Stars "It depicts a star infested with spiders, that cleave to each other like fish caught in a net. On the reverse, an azure regent prepares for war, in his chariot of hateful radiance." "Soon I will shuck this place like a skin." There's no particular limit to how big a spider-council can grow; all they need is more and more spiders. Well, okay, there is a limit, namely that there can be only so many spiders in a council before it becomes a threat to the gods themselves. These planet-sized groupings are called spider-senates. Long ago, a spider-senate was formed by laying an egg in a star, but was defeated by the Sapphir'd King. After defeating it, he imprisoned the spider-senate in the frozen White Well. Despite being trapped, the spider-senate was able to exert some influence by sending a disguised spider-council to form a cult at the edge of the White Well, in Wellmouth. A spider-cult from the Fourth City called the Motherlings are attempting to create another spider-senate. They know the art of knitting two spider-councils into a bigger one, and with this process they tried to create a spider-council large enough to lay an egg on the Sun. "She recites a prayer, or poem, describing the "Eye of Heaven", which "sees and burns and judges." Spiders scuttle excitedly around her. The prayer suggests that the blessed will lay an egg in the Eye of Heaven, which will hatch into a "Spider-Senate, to hang its webs from the stars."" When the Khanate, the remnants of the Fourth City, took to the skies, the Motherlings followed them to Eagle's Empyrean. Perhaps they will assist the existing spider-senate in some way... References Category:Places Category:The Unterzee Category:Formatted Category:Creatures Category:Cited